37 Seconds at Central Station
by Ladderandsteps
Summary: Arthur Kirkland has hated a lot of things. For one, he hates being reminded of his forever single status, and he hates taking the awful public transport system. Though, that all changes when he notices a rather good looking American holding up a whiteboard with the words, "The man in the purple shirt is hella handsome."


**A/N: This was originally supposed to be published for friendship day, six days ago, but I was just really late. For anyone expecting a lot of romance, there really isn't much. There is more friendship between Francis and Arthur, but Alfred and Matthew do make an official appearance at the end.**

 **I'm also a researcher who used to work for a company near Central Station, so I took the Red Line a lot. But the Red Line is definitely not as reliable as it in this story.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story. I don't own Hetalia or the Boston public transport system.**

* * *

His eyes were trained on his computer screen as he looked over for any errors in his abstract. Reaching for his pack of crisps, he bit into the sour cream and onion crisp and frowned as he deleted the last two sentences. Writing the abstract was proving to be much harder than he had originally anticipated. Picking up his pen, he quickly scribbled a note to verify the data on the experiment AKRP-19.

As his eyes narrowed reading another weirdly formatted sentence, he watched his computer screen close. Glancing up with annoyance—he luckily saved the document—he raised a brow, "What are you doing?"

"Time to go home!" Francis cheered. He pointed to the clock behind him and Arthur sighed as he noticed the time.

"Actually," Arthur swallowed as he tried to come up with something. "I need to split a few cells. Some of them have reached full confluency and—,"

"Are those cells by any chance the HeLa cells? Already took care of that. Just look up my ELN for the notes and calculations," Francis gave him a cheeky grin.

"The PCR reaction—," he tried to come up with his next task.

"Can be finished tomorrow," Francis grabbed Arthur's arm as lifted him to his feet. " _Arrêtez de vous trouver des excuses_! Antonio invited you to his bachelor party _two_ months ago. He would be hurt if he knew you were pathetically pipetting in samples for a PCR reaction."

"It's science!" Arthur protested.

Francis picked Arthur's beige jacket and pulled him out of the building, "Which can be finished tomorrow. Antonio's party, though, is today, _petit lapin_."

He sighed as he let Francis lead him to Harvard station. Both tapped their Charlie Cards and waited for the red line train. Although he didn't mind having the frog on his team—Francis's extensive knowledge on immunology was leading them to their major discovery—he hated how the frog knew everything in his schedule. At least if he were in a different research team, he could've probably gotten away with his excuses.

It's not that he hated Antonio. It's just that he hated the idea of attending a bachelor party knowing that _all_ his friends were going to be there. All his friends mixed in with alcohol, was a great chance for all of them to mock Arthur for being the thirty-two-year-old virgin who never captured anyone's interest. Forever single. Forever alone. And sure, it was fun to hear those words back when he was in high school and in college, but now, as he watched a few of his friends start families, he couldn't help but want someone for himself.

Someone who would listen to all his lab problems. Someone who would cuddle with him on his sofa as he watched reruns of Sherlock and Doctor Who. Someone who actually _responded_ back to him in English instead of just giving him a blank stare.

Yes, he bought a cat when he couldn't bear the loneliness. He thought his cat would give him the same troubles that his friends' children gave them. Mess the items in his house, crave for constant attention, give him good morning kisses as he started his day. But out of all the cats in the shop, he just _had_ to buy the quietest, most obedient, cat.

Roosevelt—yes, he named his cat after the American president—would just stare at him with indifference. At first, it was fun to tell Ro all his problems. But Ro never changed his facial expression, and at a certain point, Arthur was sure that Ro was mocking him. So yeah, he stopped complaining to his cat.

Francis's eyes widened as he saw the red line leaving. Turning to Arthur, he huffed, "We missed our usual train because of you!"

Since they missed the train, Arthur successfully missed five extra minutes of the party. Five less minutes his friends could mock him on his lack of a significant other. He was very temped to tell everyone he was dating someone, but his friends knew what he did every second of his life, so fibbing wouldn't work either.

When he felt his phone buzz, he pulled it out and scowled when he saw the photos of the shots on the table. Antonio texted him with a, "Body shots ;D!"

Francis chuckled as he read the text on his phone and nudged Arthur, "I can be your partner, Arthur."

"Please," Arthur crossed his arms. "I'd rather die than have you take body shots off me." They started playing the game back when Gilbert was hosting his bachelor party, and ever since, they continued to play the game every time. As much fun the game was, he didn't fancy having Francis's chest hair in his mouth especially if Francis was his partner.

As the next train came, they entered. Arthur sighed as he grabbed the railing. Francis pulled out his phone and muttered, "Let's skip the T and take an Uber, we'll get there faster."

"Let's take the T," Arthur frowned. Normally, he avoided the Boston public transport system as best as he could, but now he craved to take the T. And he hoped the line would break down as well. It usually broke down when he was coming back from work, anyway. As long as the aircon was on, he would be fine.

"And miss a few seconds of the party?" Francis snorted. "As if, Antonio is footing the bill, and I'm planning on taking advantage of every second."

The T slowed to a stop as Arthur rolled his eyes in annoyance. Why wasn't this stupid train breaking down? Glancing out the window, he frowned when he noticed a man on the outbound train holding up a whiteboard with the words. Leaning forward, his eyes squinted as he read the words out loud, "The man in the purple shirt is hella handsome."

Arthur turned to Francis and nudged him, "Francis, I think you have an admirer." Francis's attention turned to him, and Arthur pointed to the man across from them on the other train. "See, man in the purple shirt is handsome," he muttered.

This attention towards Francis was normal. During first three years together in the company, Francis managed to hoard most of the attention from the single—and even a few committed—employees in their company and the company next door. He wasn't too surprised with this whiteboard confession.

Francis smiled and blew a kiss to the man, but the man frowned in slight disgust as he turned the whiteboard and began to scribble something else. Arthur let out a small chuckle, "Is that disgust I see?" He turned to Francis, "Can it be? The world must be ending if—,"

Francis frowned as he muttered, "The world is ending." He turned Arthur's head back to the man, and Arthur's gaze fell on the whiteboard once more. "The man in the purple shirt is hella handsome. I mean the man with the killer brows!"

Arthur frowned as he looked around, the train jerked slightly forward. Turning to Francis, he frowned, "There's no man with a purple shirt and killer brows. Who is he talking about?"

Francis nearly slapped his face, but instead pushed Arthur's head so he saw the purple shirt he was wearing, "I think he was speaking about you."

Arthur shook his head. In his whole life, no one was ever attracted to him. He watched his friends get together, and he was forever the third wheel. Someone like him couldn't possibly attract someone's attention, "Is this a joke?"

"Well, I sincerely hope it is," Francis pouted. "He picked you over me, who does that?"

Arthur nodded his head. The mystery man seemed slightly disgusted when Francis blew him a kiss. Disgusted by beautiful, handsome Francis…but attracted to thick browed Arthur. A slow smile began to spread across Arthur's face. Mystery man picked _him_ over Francis, the frog. Turning to Francis, he sported a silly smile, showing off his left dimple in the process, "He picked me over you!"

Rolling his eyes, Francis scowled, "We established that _petit lapin_. It would be great if you could shut up."

"Picked me over you!" Arthur repeated with happiness.

* * *

Antonio glanced at the British man with slight concern. They decided to start their night with a few appetizers before they went crazy with the alcohol and dancing. Usually, Arthur would be protesting, but instead Arthur stared off towards the painting on the wall with a trivial grin. Antonio turned to the picture and raised his brow as he leaned towards Gilbert, "Is that picture of the Eiffel Tower really that interesting?"

Arthur hated all things French, and to see him staring off into the picture with a dazed look made Antonio question whether he should dial for help. Gilbert shrugged his shoulders before motioning over to Francis, "What's keepin' him in a pissy mood?"

"Did they switch bodies?" Antonio mentioned with deadpan.

Gilbert cleared his throat as he tried to rile up Arthur, "You know, the Chip isn't as salty as it usually is."

Arthur grinned as he unscrewed the cap of the salt shaker and poured the salt over Gilbert's food. Antonio smacked his head and shook his head as Gilbert fretted over his now salty food. "Never mess with Arthur when you have food around. That man has a Ph.D. is ruining cuisine," Antonio snapped.

Rolling his eyes, Gilbert snapped, "Oi Chip!"

Antonio shook his head, "Chip is too mild. Try the American version." Turning to Arthur, Antonio's eyes narrowed, "French Fry!" When Arthur still didn't respond, Antonio sighed, " _¡Qué demonios!_ What happened to you today, Arthur?"

Francis's eyes widened as he muttered, " _Fils de salop!_ Don't let him start now! It took me nearly thirty minutes to get him to stop!"

At the same time, Arthur turned to them with a wide grin, "Someone on the train picked me over Francis."

"And he's at it again," Francis rolled his eyes. "Can we move to the body shots?"

"No," Arthur frowned. "Listen to my story."

"I really—," Francis began.

Antonio rolled his eyes, "Francis, let the man speak. It's not often Arthur is this cute." Turning to Arthur, he grinned, "Tell us your story, but be quick so we can move to the drinks, alright?"

Thirty-five minutes later, Antonio's smile was completely washed off. Gilbert was dozing off, and Francis's sour mood only worsened. Arthur, meanwhile, was rambling about the same event over and over again with extreme joy. Leaning forward, Antonio asked Francis, "Was I really this bad when I first met Lovi?"

Francis turned to Arthur while scrunching his nose, "No, but Arthur is a thirty-two-year-old virgin who was never been hit on before. Until the man gets laid, he'll be _très ennuyeux_." Francis glanced at the table with the drinks, "Let's see if we can escape." Antonio nodded his head as both of them tried to slip out, but when Francis felt Arthur's hand on his shoulder, he almost cried, " _Merde_ Arthur! Just leave me alone!"

* * *

He tapped his foot impatiently as he saw the train's doors close. This had been happening since the past week. They would come to Harvard Station at their usual time, but Arthur would stop Francis from going on their usual train. Instead they would take the next train because Arthur had some hope in the corner of his heart that he would meet his mystery man again.

Load of bullshit, he thinks.

When the next train arrived, Arthur quickly pulled him in and they stood in the same spot they stood exactly last Tuesday. Arthur reached into his pocket for the slip of paper that he planned on showing mystery man.

"Look Arthur," Francis began slowly. "I think the man was a tourist, you might never see him—,"

"He's there!" Arthur visibly brightened as he stood a bit taller. He waved around, and the man from the other train waved back at Arthur with a smile. Arthur pulled out the piece of paper which held the words, "Thank You," on them. Glancing briefly at Francis, he dreamily asked, "Isn't he adorable?"

Francis frowned as he turned to the other man. Glasses, tall, strong build, stubborn cowlick, wheat-blond hair, maybe blue eyes? "Looks average," Francis scoffed as he turned away.

"It's because he doesn't think you're attractive," Arthur snapped back as he eagerly waited for the message that the other man was writing down on his board.

When the board turned around, Arthur beamed.

 _No problem! You look very handsome, and I couldn't help but compliment you._

Arthur turned his paper around and reached for the sharpie in his other pocket. He quickly scribbled down the words on the paper and turned them around before the train jerked forward.

 _You look very handsome, as well!_

The man's face split into a smile as he quickly wrote. Turning the board, Arthur read out loud, "Next Tuesday?" He nodded his head as the train moved forward. Arthur waved back at the man as he became smaller and smaller.

* * *

Francis frowned as he tried to amuse himself on his phone. Every Tuesday, he would come home about ten minutes later because Arthur insisted on speaking with his mystery man. After wasting multiple papers, Francis bought Arthur a whiteboard. And that exacerbated the conversations between the two men.

Arthur still didn't know the man's name, but he did know many trivial details. Like how the man thinks Charlie Cards should be banned, or how the man went to a Red Sox game the other day. Arthur was no worse. He shared pretty trivial details about where he went to eat and how he hated the creaky sounds whenever the train passed the Downtown Crossing stop.

Francis glanced up at Arthur with annoyance.

Every Tuesday, at Central Station, for thirty-seven seconds, Arthur would be engrossed in his conversation with the American man, forgetting the rest of the world in the process.

The dazed looks would begin one hour before they left work. Productive Arthur was slowly not becoming as productive, and they were falling slightly behind in their experiments because of this. Because Arthur was slacking, _he_ had to pick up the pace, which he abhorred.

 _I have a cat named Roosevelt._

Jasper was originally supposed to be the name of Arthur's cat. But when Arthur tried to call his cat Jasper, the beast scowled at him. After many names—Crumpet, Scone, Beau, Love, Cat—Arthur mentioned the name Roosevelt, and the beast didn't scowl anymore. So, Arthur stuck with that name, albeit a bit reluctantly.

 _How funny! My cat's name is Churchill._

The train moved forward as Arthur collapsed into the seat next to Francis. It had been officially seven weeks since mystery man scribbled the first message. Which meant, Arthur knew this stranger for approximately 259 seconds. Or about 4 minutes and 20 ish seconds.

"I think I'm in love."

Francis would like to repeat that Arthur spent only 259 seconds with the man. 259 _seconds_.

"Why so?" Francis was a little scared of the answer. Sure, he fooled around and loved it whenever people decided to get together, but this? He didn't exactly know how to react. Arthur knew nothing about this man, and he was claiming he was in love? Even _he_ didn't work this fast.

"His cat's name is Churchill and mine is Roosevelt," Arthur mentioned with a grin. "Former American president and British prime minister during World War II."

Francis blanched, "I don't see how this is happy. If it were Romeo and Juliet," Francis argued, "I could see a sliver of happiness, but even then…"

Arthur turned to him with a grin, "Churchill mentioned that there was a Special Relationship between America and Britain. I'm British and he's American, so…," Arthur let the sentence hang. "You think he likes me back?" the stupid smile was back on Arthur's face.

"I think you're getting ahead of yourself. You don't even know if he likes you." Arthur frowned, and Francis crossed his arms as he elaborated, "Just because he writes on his _petit_ whiteboard does not mean he likes you. It could just be something he does to pass time on this boring train ride," Francis motioned to the train. "No one likes the commute."

Arthur visibly deflated, "So, you think it's just a casual conversation?"

"Dear thirty-two-year-old virgin, it most likely is," Francis gave him a mocking grin. "Just don't expect much from it."

* * *

Francis regretted saying anything to Arthur. For the past three days, it was absolutely miserable trying to work with Arthur. He ruined four different assays, and they almost ran out of their reagents. Their _$3200_ reagents almost gone because Kirkland couldn't keep his head clear.

Not only that, but hearing Arthur present his data at their team meeting was unusually depressing. Which was awful because the data was great, so great they could make millions if it passed clinical trials, though, Arthur made it seem as though they failed.

Trying to rub the bridge of his nose, Francis shook his head as he pulled up his presentation. Luckily, he knew everything Arthur had on his calendar. Whenever he had the free time, he just finished the assays that Arthur neglected to finish.

As he finished his leg of the presentation, his boss, Elizabeta, frowned. Turning to Francis, she gave him a slight smile, "You seem to have been busy."

Rolling his eyes, Francis muttered, "You don't know the least of it."

Elizabeta projected an Excel template on the screen and frowned, "So, if the dates are correct on here, you should have your next mouse takedown on Tuesday, right?"

Arthur's head immediately lifted as Elizabeta continued, "If you need any help in the lab, just call me down, alright?"

Francis was about to decline the offer, saying they should be fine, but Arthur beat him to it by protesting, "Tuesday? Can we push it a day forward or back?"

Francis shut his laptop as he took a sip of his coffee, "We planned this experiment _three_ months ago, Arthur. _Three_! And you were the one who stressed on the schedule being this way. We can't push the date now. Deal with it." He turned to Elizabeta and asked, "So, remember the data that I wanted to show you? Do you have time?"

* * *

Arthur staked outside of the animal facility centre. Their experiment had five different experimental conditions, so in total, they had twenty-two mice. Normally, processing the tissues of twenty-two mice took the whole day, but he couldn't take the whole day today.

It also didn't help that he saw the adorable American only once a week. In their second week of correspondence, Arthur found out that the man volunteered at a day care centre. Tuesdays were the only days he worked, which is why he took the red line only on that particular day.

If he didn't leave in time, he would have to wait another whole week to see his mystery man. Another week!

Which is why, after some thought, he decided to wake up five a.m. in the morning. If he came to the animal facility right when maintenance came in, he could just slip inside and collect all the tissues he needed. They would be two hours ahead of schedule, and if skipped lunch, he should be able to catch the train in time to see the mystery man.

As Arthur collected the tissues, he glanced at the clock every now and then to make sure he was on track. With a cheeky grin, he packed all the tissues in a biosafety hazard container and rushed upstairs to the lab. At this rate, he'll be finished well before five-thirty!

Quickly sterilizing the biosafety hood, he pulled out his earphones and listened to the Beatles in full volume as he went to work processing the tissues. About sometime later, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Turning around slightly, he grinned at Francis, "Almost done processing all of the samples!"

Francis frowned as he glanced down in the biosafety hood. True to Arthur's word, he was almost done processing the mice tissues. Pulling a chair next to Arthur, he lifted another biosafety hazard container and sighed, "How angry would you be if I told you that you collected the tissues from the _wrong_ mice."

The British man froze as his eyes widened, "W-what?"

Francis scratched the back of his head, "Those were the new mice that Elizabeta ordered for our next experiment."

Arthur turned to his nearly finished samples and muttered, "Well, bloody hell."

Francis nodded his head, "Yeah, bloody hell," with a sigh, he opened the container and split the samples in half. "I've asked Elizabeta to come down, so maybe tissue processing will be a little bit easier?"

They worked around the clock. Initially, Elizabeta was annoyed she had to place another order of the mice, but after seeing Arthur's usual work ethic return, she was a bit less incensed. The hard worker Arthur was back. And although they worked fast, five-fifteen quickly approached, and Arthur glanced at the clock glumly. They still had to sort the last batch of cells…

At this rate, he would probably miss mystery man for this week.

Francis glanced at the clock behind him. He glanced at the pitying Arthur Kirkland and frowned. He might need to kill himself after saying these words…but he did feel bad. This was the first-time Arthur ever had a chance at romance. And he supposed it was amusing to see Arthur like this. It would make his speech as Best Man all the better if he included how pathetic Arthur.

Slipping his glove on, Francis squeezed Arthur's shoulder in support, "Go, I'll finish the sorting by myself."

Arthur turned around with amazement, "Really?"

Rolling his eyes, Francis affirmed, " _Oui_ , now go or I'll change my mind, and you'll be forced to do everything."

Arthur came and pinched Francis's face with his gloved hands, "You're…," Arthur stopped and frowned for a moment before he finished, "a good wanker, Francis."

He scowled, "A good _wanker_? _Maintenant, tu me gonfles_!"

Arthur pulled his gloves off as he shrugged his shoulders, "Sorry, if I pissed you off, mate, but you're still a wanker for taking a _long_ lunch—don't think I didn't notice—but I suppose I can promote you to being a good wanker for letting me go early." He opened the door, and Francis was sure Arthur was gone, until Arthur poked his head back in the lab, "By the way frog, those gloves weren't clean," Arthur winked at him as Francis shouted, " _Connard_!"

* * *

It had been approximately sixteen weeks now, and Arthur still didn't know his mystery man's name. But in those sixteen weeks, Antonio and Gilbert became increasingly interested. They decided to come along to see who this man was especially after seeing their best friend so…happy. Because it became increasingly clear that the man enjoyed Arthur's company just as much as Arthur. Along with Antonio, Lovino came along even though he had no desire to learn about the bastard Arthur's love.

Antonio pressed his face against the window as he eagerly waited for the train to stop. His green eyes widened, ever so slightly when he heard the train screech to a stop. As his eyes moved around to find a whiteboard, they instantly lit up when he realized an athletic, muscular man holding a board saying, "What's your favorite food?"

Arthur quickly scribbled someone down on his whiteboard. When the wheat-blond haired man nodded his head, Antonio turned to Arthur, "He looks nice," he mentioned with a grin. "Didn't think someone like that would be interested in you, but he definitely looks nice." He turned around just in time to see the man holding up the board saying, "Burgers and fries."

"He is very handsome," Arthur hummed in agreement as he quickly scribbled the next question, which was, "What is your favourite movie?"

Gilbert scoffed, "Not as handsome as me, though."

Rolling his eyes, Arthur shook his head, "He's much _more_ handsome that you can ever be, Gilbert." When the train jolted once again, Arthur waved and made sure to enjoy every last second of the man's face before it completely disappeared. Once they were fully on their way to Kendall/MIT station, Arthur collapsed into his seat right between Gilbert and Antonio, "I told you both that he was real."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, "I agree with Francis. I still think he's fake. Who would like you?"

With a scowl, Arthur elbowed Gilbert, "Sometimes I question how anyone could like you." Leaning back into his seat, he sported his usual, happy smile, "Maybe I should try a few burgers for dinner tonight. That way—,"

"You'll throw up, just like you did back in college when you ate burgers," Gilbert supplied for him. Arthur whacked him again as Gilbert shrugged his shoulders, "You did vomit you know. And to jog your memory up, _I_ was the one who helped you clean up. You were a gross little thing," Gilbert's nose wrinkled.

Arthur scowled and was about to retort how _he_ helped Gilbert all those times when Gilbert was sloshed beyond comprehension, but Antonio piped in, "Arthur, do you even know this man's name?"

Arthur turned to Antonio and shook his head, "I asked around week five, but he mentioned that he was uncomfortable giving it out since a few people tune into our conversations."

Antonio nodded his head thoughtfully, "So that means no phone number, either." Tapping his index finger on his chin, Antonio brows came together, "So, how will you two ever meet?"

"Meet?" Arthur dumbly echoed.

He loved the conversations he had with the blue-eyed handsome man, but he never envisioned going further than that. From his experience, people only ever liked to talk to him as a friend. As more and more weeks passed, he started to grow worried that when he met this handsome man, the man would quickly realize how plain and boring he was. Then Arthur would be back at his starting place, though now, he would be sporting a broken heart along with it.

And Elizabeta certainly would not be happy if he used the wrong mice again due to his broken heart.

Antonio nodded his head, "Well yeah. You do want to meet this man _someday_ , right? These conversations won't happen forever."

He shook his head slowly, "I…what…if he doesn't like me?" His insecurities have been popping up every now and then, but he pushed them aside whenever he spoke with his American friend. Now that Antonio posed the question, he couldn't help but envision a future…where his American friend would most certainly leave him for someone better looking and nicer.

"Bastard," Arthur turned to Lovino, Antonio's aggressively wordy boyfriend, "he wouldn't be writing to you if he doesn't like you. Stop being a dumb shit and ask him out so we can move on with our lives," Lovino rolled his eyes as he stared at the Charles River that was passing by.

* * *

Francis sighed as he stared at his nervous friend. The day started off fairly well. Rather than having an afternoon meeting, they had a morning meeting, where Arthur presented his data. Luckily, Elizabeta told them that they received the approval to send their materials out to the pre-clinical team for further research. Fairly soon, they will be testing their proteins on monkeys, and if those results are promising, clinical trials for humans will be on full swing.

They went out for lunch to celebrate, where Arthur was still fine.

But, when they came back into the lab to do a repetition experiment, he became a disaster in the working. He would spill reagents, mix the wrong materials together, or just simply blank on what he was doing.

Instead of yelling at him for his incompetence, Francis merely took over and had Arthur be his lackey, instead, by making Arthur bring him tip boxes or media.

Now that they've entered the train, Arthur became a visible mess. The lady sitting right next to Arthur glanced over at him in concern.

"What are you doing, _Angleterre_?" Francis muttered under his breath.

Arthur pulled on his collar and nervously gulped as his grip on the whiteboard tightened, "It's been a few weeks—,"

"Thirty-four," Francis supplied.

Arthur's brows knit together in distress as he tried to take a deep breath, "Yes, that number seems to be right. It's been thirty-four weeks…and I've decided to muster up the courage to ask this man out on a date."

Francis's purple eyes widened in surprise. He was so tired of losing out on his verbal sparring partner, he desperately asked Antonio to plant the seed in Arthur's mind about taking the next step. Though, Arthur did not do anything for weeks, so he only assumed it hadn't worked.

He genuinely wished for that mystery man to agree. Maybe if Arthur finds his happiness in love, he'll return to being his usual grumpy, snarky British spunk. That was the type of man Francis liked to be with anyway. At least, he hoped clumsy Arthur wouldn't come in full force. He was tired of the extra shifts he had to work for.

"Don't worry," Francis squeezed Arthur's shoulder and offered a smile. "You are a _charming_ man. And even if he says no, you still have _me_." Back when they were finishing their final year in their graduate program, Francis proposed jokingly, and Arthur snapped back that he would never marry a frog.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur muttered, "Even if you were the last living breathing _thing_ in this universe, I would kill you before I mate with you."

"You hurt big brother," Francis snapped back while crossing his arms. As the train slowed down, Francis turned to Arthur, "Go charm him, black sheep."

The first twenty seconds were spent writing about which colours they preferred, but in the last ten seconds, Arthur quickly scribbled down, "Go on a date with me?" and turned it around. The American's blue eyes widened slightly for a moment as his mouth dropped open to form a perfect 'o.'

Before the response could come, though, the train rolled forward as Francis groaned. He would have to deal with another week of clumsy, delusional Arthur.

* * *

When the following week came by, Arthur's eyes glistened when he couldn't see the American. Francis held Arthur close and rubbed small circles on Arthur's back as he offered comforting words. Afterwards, they went out for drinks. Arthur declared right then and there that he wouldn't take public transportation again, which Francis mentioned was crazy.

Nonetheless, they came the week after, because Francis insisted. "Maybe the mystery man was sick and couldn't make it." But still, no American.

And after the third week rolled around, Arthur mentioned they should just give up.

Instead of taking the later train, they started taking the earlier one.

As for work, after a depressing first week, in the second week, meticulous Arthur came back. From all his time of knowing Arthur, he was glad Arthur did not spend too much time agonizing over something trivial. He quickly took over a few of Francis's experiments and even managed to finish writing the paper they had wanted to publish. Elizabeta was joyous as well to see Arthur's productivity.

Francis groaned as he rubbed his eyes. Coming to work on a Saturday to do a couple of experiments was just exhausting. He turned to Arthur who was currently glued onto his phone, "Next time we plan out an experiment, let's please plan it out so we don't spend five hours in the morning splitting cells."

Arthur snorted, "We could've split them yesterday, but you insisted on pushing them today, frog." He turned to Francis with a frown, "And we could've left two hours ago if you hadn't insisted we do the PCR." He pointed to the excel sheet he pulled up on his phone, "In another two weeks, we'll have to take another Saturday shift, maybe Sunday if we become busy."

When the train stopped at Central station, Francis sighed as he listened to Arthur drone about the reagents they would have to order for their upcoming four month timepoint. He tried to come up with what he would make for lunch. Croissant sandwich? Bouillabaisse? Ratatouille with a chicken salad on the side? As his eyes rolled, hearing yet another one of Arthur's work related sentences, he stilled when he noticed the broad shoulders of an American man.

Just as the doors were slipping to a close, the American man jumped through and began to huff with exhaustion. His blue eyes were glimmering with hope, and his lips were curved upwards in a victory. Taking a deep breath, he walked near Francis and Arthur.

Arthur, who was still busy glued onto his phone, rambled about the assays they would need to perform, while Francis poked his shoulder, "Arthur?" he muttered slightly out of breath.

"We'll need to purify some DNA and sequence it. We'll send two aliquots to sequencing, and keep three for ourselves. Maybe we can run a gel with the DNA we have—," Arthur paused and nearly snapped when Francis's poking became increasingly harsher. "What?" he snapped. "You don't want to come on a Saturday or Sunday, so I am telling you what we need to prioritize!"

"Look," Francis pointed to the figure standing in front of him and Arthur turned. The second he did though, his green eyes grew to the size of saucers and his breath stilled. Francis leaned over and muttered, "He looks even more delicious, up close."

"Shut up, frog, he's mine," Arthur whispered back.

The man held out his hands with a charming grin, "I believe we haven't formerly met before. My name is Alfred F. Jones."

Arthur's hand slightly shook as he held out his hands, "Arthur Kirkland-Jones." Alfred's brows came together as Francis elbowed Arthur. Quickly realizing his mistake, Arthur corrected, "Jones? Such an interesting name. I think I knew of a Jones before."

Francis pulled Arthur close, "That thirsty for him? Back down, Kirkland, you might scare the man."

Arthur's lips curved upward, "This is the first human being that ever liked me back, Fran. I won't let him go."

Francis chuckled and shook his head. Seeing their interaction, Alfred rubbed his arms as he asked, "Are you two?"

"Enemies," Arthur quickly responded. "Unfortunately, we have to work together, and due to morbidly high rents, we have to live together as well. But we absolutely hate each other."

Francis nodded his head, "Loathe him with every fibre."

Alfred nodded his head with a slight grin. Turning to Arthur he took a deep breath, "I know it's been a few weeks, but if the date still stands, I'd be up for it."

Arthur turned to Francis in slight confusion before glancing back up at Alfred, "It still stands…but where did you disappear off to? Both of us thought your disappearance was a rejection."

Rubbing the back of his head, a small blush graced over Alfred's cheeks, "I kind of didn't want to spend another week in a train just to figure out where we were planning on going. So, I thought I would surprise you by coming on your train. I just miscalculated _so_ badly where your compartment was."

"And the following weeks?"

"I was still trying to find you," Alfred admitted. "The first week, I went to Harvard Station, because I assumed you would get on at an earlier stop, but I ended up taking an earlier train. And then, I decided I would go to Central, but I didn't know where to stand in order to meet you. It was a total crapshoot, but I've been trying ever since. Didn't think I would see you on a Saturday, though. I'm glad Mattie wanted to go out."

"Mattie?" Francis asked.

"My cousin," Alfred pulled out his phone, "Who is currently stuck in a later train because he couldn't run as fast as me." He glanced up at Arthur, "What's your phone number, before I forget." They exchanged phones and entered in their numbers. When the seat next to Arthur cleared, Alfred smiled as he sat down next to the British man, "You don't know how long I've been wanting to talk to you in person, this moment is kind of surreal."

Arthur smiled and nodded his head, "For me, as well," he murmured.

As they fell into conversation, Francis slumped in his seat. This is how being the third wheel was? Because he hated the feeling of being left out, he told them he was positively famished, and Alfred suggested they go to the mall near Park Street.

As they continued to speak at Park Street, while they waited for Alfred's cousin, Francis crossed his arms and grumbled. He thought that Arthur getting together with the mystery man would be the end to all his problems, but now that he thought about it, he absolutely despised the idea of Arthur getting together with anyone. If Arthur married first, _he_ would be the last bachelor in their friend group. _He_ would be the one who would never get invited to couples' events. He would become a laughing stock for losing out to thirty-two-year-old virgin, Arthur.

Alfred's eyes brightened as he raised his hand, "Mattie!"

Francis turned and nearly had the breath sucked out of him. Walking up to them was a gorgeous specimen, full of muscle, yet innocent and positively adorable. Whereas Alfred looked every bit of the alpha male, this man, Mattie, looked every bit the boy-next-door. Just the type he preferred.

Slinging his arm around Mattie's shoulders, he turned to Arthur, "Arthur, this is Matthew Williams, my cousin from Canada."

Francis tried to push himself closer to Matthew, and Arthur took notice of it. Francis beamed as he held out his hand. In a slightly sultry voice—hey, he wanted this man for himself—he informed, "Pleasure to meet you, I'm Francis." Matthew nodded his head as his grip on his white stuffed bear grew slightly tighter. "Canada?" Francis wanted the conversation to go longer, and if Matthew didn't supply, he was completely willing to speak for the both of them, " _Pouvez-vous parler français?_ "

Matthew nodded his head slowly as he used his right index finger to push up his glasses. If Francis could, he would take this man right here, and right now. But he was sure the people at Park Street wouldn't appreciate it. Americans were always testy when it came to public nudity.

" _Oui, je sais parler français._ "

Francis wanted to hug this delectable man, but Alfred pulled him away, "Mattie, I know you like poutine and all, but maybe we can go for poutine later."

As he watched his future husband walk away, Francis pouted and slumped. Arthur walked up next to him and crossed his arms with a teasing glare, "Are you perhaps a bit thirsty, yourself?"

He turned to Arthur and stated, "He's gorgeous and he speaks French, what more can you ask for? I just want to whisper these little dirty things in his ear that no one else but him can understand."

With a roll of his eyes, Arthur scoffed, "You don't even know anything about him."

Francis turned to Arthur, and in deadpan said, " _Mon petit lapin_ , I don't need thirty-seven seconds each week to know that he's the one for me." He turned and called out lovingly, " _Oh Matthieu!_ "

Arthur shook his head with a grin as he watched Francis run off to the Canadian. He slowly walked forward, but was surprised when he felt a hand hold his gently. Glancing up, he met Alfred's sky-blue eyes. With a smile, Alfred interlocked their fingers and squeezed Arthur's hand, "I don't know if it's too early to say this, but I really like you."

Arthur blushed and glanced to the ground, "I like you, too," he whispered back. Hearing this, Alfred pulled Arthur into an embrace, and Arthur knew his future was bright.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope I didn't lose you guys whenever they spoke about work. The only reason I made them work for a research company is because I work for a research company, but I also wanted to put Arthur and Francis in a different profession compared to the usual doctor, lawyer, chef, archaeologist, writer. Both the U.K. and France are known for their scientific discoveries!**

 **Though, I really have to applaud the authors who put together a story in under five thousand words. I have great difficulty with it.**


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